


Pillow Lines

by nakatas_cat



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: mcsheplets, Dog Tags, Established Relationship, Humor, M/M, Marking, Wordcount: 1.000-3.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-09
Updated: 2012-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-30 21:03:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/336086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nakatas_cat/pseuds/nakatas_cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John marks Rodney in an unexpected way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pillow Lines

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [mcsheplets](http://mcsheplets.livejournal.com/) prompt #108 Dog Tags.  
> Betaed by [kay_greatness](http://kay-greatness.livejournal.com/) (*hugs*).

_Knock-knock._

"You go. 'S your room," John grumbled in that throaty voice of his that he had after sleeping.

Rodney groaned. He so didn't want to get up from his comfy (albeit a little hairy) cushion that was John's chest. Ignoring the intruder, he snuggled a little closer and pretended he hadn't heard it.

_Knock-knock-knock._

Damn. That was a pretty pushy intruder. But Rodney could be rather stubborn in feigning not to hear as well.

"Rodney, you better go before whoever's interrupting your beauty sleep comes stomping in here." John's voice was warning, although in a somewhat amused way.

"Fine, fine," Rodney gave in grudgingly and got up, throwing on a robe on his way to the door.

Boy, the things he did for love! If it wasn't for John's guardedness in matters of their relationship, he wouldn't have cared if the President, the Queen - both of the Commonwealth of Nations and of a Wraith hive ship - or whoever ran in on them.

_Knock-knock-knock._

"Jesus, I'm coming already, you idiot! This better be good or you'll regret the day you were born," Rodney first shouted and then mumbled with clear annoyance before finally opening the big wooden door.

"Dr. McKay, may your day be blessed," Lem, a disgustingly good-humored Peloran scientist of whom Rodney had had far too much in the last couple of days, greeted him with a blinding smile.

Rodney groaned, feeling the urge to wipe that cheerful smile off the guy's face for calling him away from John.

"Yeah, may your day be hell, blah blah. What's the matter now?" If his annoyance bled through then, it was just because that was totally his intention.

They'd been on Pelora for almost five days, helping them build a sophisticated early alert network. To Rodney's astonishment, he had to admit that the Pelorans had been somewhat successful in developing and maintaining a certain degree of technical progress despite the Wraith's cullings every few centuries. The new network was supposed to help them protect themselves by warning the people against an impending visit of the Wraith. Some of the Pelorans were descendants of the humans that this one brain-dead Wraith had experimented with once. Just like Teyla they were able to sense the Wraith when they were close, meaning in orbit around their planet, which had probably saved their asses a couple of times already.

Rodney's selfless offer of helping them construct that network would ensure that their early warning system would be even more effective in the future. Well, selfless if you didn't count the utterly heavenly patties and tartlets that were part of the deal. Or, to Rodney, the heart of the matter.

"The simulations you started last night are finished, Dr. McKay," Lem reported blithely, his smile unwavering despite Rodney's clear resentment.

"Peachy. Now, shoo! I'm going back to bed." Rodney was already engaged in closing the door, anticipating a round of morning workout with his favorite sports equipment when the nag started talking once more.

"You instructed us to 'keep our hands off' of your things. It's already three strokes past sunrise and therefore time to get on with work. We're just ahead of being done with the network."

Rodney did some quick math. Three strokes past sunrise, did he say? That was just past 6 a.m. in Atlantian Standard Time! Goddamned early risers with their freaking good-humored attitudes! John and he'd slept for four hours tops. Well, okay, not really a surprise after the lengthy evening activities of last night.

But really, what did these people expect when they gave him such a luxuriously big bed? It'd be a total waste to not have sex in it at least once a day.

He growled, weighing the pros and cons of John, sleep-warm and naked in his bed, and patties and tartlets, delicious and melting on his tongue.

"Fine. Give me five minutes," he finally ground out with a scowl. No need to endanger the pastries supply. He'd just start another run of the simulations and then hop back into bed with John. No one'd die a horrible death if the network wasn't finished by the evening. The remaining Wraith weren't as active as they used to be anymore, thanks to the Hoffan drug.

And, honestly, he'd be done by the evening anyway and have a couple rounds of satisfying sex in between, Rodney thought smugly.

"What are you still doing here? Chop-chop! Back to the labs with you! Oh, and grab me some breakfast on your way, would you? Those meat pies and a couple of the tomato-sausage-bread-thingies'd be good."

Before he could even think of slamming the door shut in Lem's face, the other scientist deterred him once again.

"Please say hi to Colonel Sheppard for me. I'll arrange for his breakfast to be brought here."

Rodney startled. "Huh?"

Looking back into the room, he checked if the bed was visible from where they stood. No, definitely not. Then how did that impossible man know that John was in there?

But Lem was already walking down the corridor. Just before he turned the corner, he stopped and, glancing back at Rodney, said in an irritatingly amused tone, "Oh, and tell him that he should think about having you marked permanently. It would look good on you."

Then he was gone, leaving a shocked Rodney in his wake.

Marked? Permanently?

Rodney swallowed laboriously. He'd checked himself for hickeys last night, right before they had gone to bed, and hadn't spotted any. Not that John hadn't been careful. He usually was and so far he'd never marked Rodney somewhere others were prone to see it.

Slowly, Rodney closed the door and turned around to his lover who was watching him with bleary eyes. "Um, John? Did you hear what that imbecile just said?" Rodney asked carefully whilst heading for the bed.

"Huh?" An endearingly tousled head was lifted only a hands-breadth off the pillow. "Nope, sorry, buddy. Kinda drifted off here."

Rodney wanted to be annoyed but couldn't. This was more like a holiday for John than anything else. Apart from keeping an eye on Rodney, John had nothing to do all the livelong day. And to be honest, John deserved some downtime after the last few months.

Still at least managing the obligatory eye-roll, Rodney sat down on the edge of the mattress and muttered Lem's words under his breath, praying that John wouldn't freak too much over their unexpected and inexplicable outing.

"What's that, Rodney?"

Damn! Rodney'd sorta hoped that John wouldn't be quite perceptive or even interested in his sleepy state and that he'd leave it at that. But no, of course, John's military training had to kick in and make him receptive in mere seconds.

Sighing, Rodney repeated himself a little louder, "I said that Lem said that you should have me marked permanently. I don't even understand what that means. I mean, I've got no hickeys and..."

"Rodney," John interrupted Rodney's nervous babbling firmly.

Rodney's head dropped onto his chest. Oh dear, he'd screwed up. Now he wouldn't need to run more simulations to spend more time rolling through the sheets if the finished ones were positive. Which they sure were.

But then John touched his hand and said, "Come here, buddy."

If Rodney's ears had muscles that he could flex deliberately, they'd certainly perk up now. Maybe not all was lost, Rodney thought as he scooted over to John.

Suddenly, John's grip tightened around Rodney's hand and John stared at him with an almost comical expression. John's hand went up and grabbed Rodney's chin, tilting his head to the side to have a better view of Rodney's cheek.

"What? What is it?" Rodney asked impatiently when John remained silent.

And that was all it took to make John burst into laughter like a rabid donkey.

Rodney all but panicked. So there really was something! On his face even! A braying John was never a good sign. Oh good Lord, he was probably disfigured and that idiot was laughing his head off!

He broke away from John's fingers and ran into the bathroom, stopping right in front of the sink with the big mirror above it. Staring goggle-eyed at his reflection, he let go of the breath he hadn't been aware of holding and relaxed. 

There, on his left cheek, was a pretty detailed imprint of John's dog tags, complete with rank, name and all the numbers.

Thank God, he wasn't disfigured! And here he had considered not leaving the room until Carson'd come and have a look at him. He gave his mirror image a crooked smile and turned around.

When he entered the main room again, John had calmed down somewhat.

With an ill-boding grin John said, "You know, I kinda like Lem's idea."

Rodney's eyes grew wide in shock. "What? No way!"

"Well, it doesn't have to be on your face," John amended and added with a leer, "you know there's this other part of your body where I think a tattoo of my dog tags would look pretty good." His gaze at Rodney's butt was anything but subtle.

Rodney gaped at John, unable to make his brain form coherent sentences and send them on their way to his mouth.

This? Seriously? Not what he had expected.

He'd thought that there'd still be some kind of freaking out on John's part after his initial amusement. That John instead wanted to tattoo his dog tags onto Rodney's ass of all things blew Rodney out of the water. Not that he'd complain. This was much better than the reaction he'd anticipated. Maybe John had finally gotten more comfortable with people knowing that they weren't just best friends. And true, Rodney sort of liked it when John left marks on him.

But a tattoo? On Rodney's ass?

Not ever!

When Rodney finally convinced his body to obey him again, he just snorted and walked past the bed to grab his clothes by the chair, not honoring John's words with a response. A slap on his robe-clad butt made him jerk and glower at an innocent looking John.

"You! Don't you dare move! I'll be back in ten minutes and then, Mister, we'll have a talk about this." He quickly threw on his clothes and headed for the door.

Rodney glanced one last time at John, who was grinning like a Cheshire cat and sprawling comfortably in all his naked glory on the bed. "Promise?"

"You bet!" Rodney replied with another snort before he left his room with a head shake and a fond smile on his lips.

Oh yeah, they'd so have this talk in a couple minutes. And he'd show John much better things to do with his ass.


End file.
